


Grief.com – Because LOVE Never Dies Five Stages of Grief by ...

by aishiteita



Series: brijae is a Good but i guess im stuck here forever [3]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Bad Fic, M/M, ive really forgotten how to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishiteita/pseuds/aishiteita
Summary: ... by Park Jaehyung. In no particular order.Featuring his four friends. (Three and a crush.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> IT ISNT SAD HUZZAH??????????????????????????????????//
> 
> i really have forgotten how to write anything worth reading anymore sldkfjslf this is vvv self indulgent i just wanted them to Kiss. as always. delksf
> 
> a/n: i hate pineapple on pizza and ofc jae took a dump in this fic.

**3\. bargaining**

"Pilly-pil o'mine," Jae sighs, most exaggeratedly. He wants to rub both his palms together beseechingly but the sweat makes him clap them a couple times instead. He hopes the beseeching part still gets conveyed to Wonpil, who has been sitting so sweetly on Jae's couch, fingers poised on his knobby knees, like the coffee table is his baby grand and the pineapple pizza he ordered isn't blasphemous. "Please tell me? About the _Brian thing_?"

"After this," Wonpil mutters dismissively, breaking character as he makes grabby hands towards the pizza box. With all his lanky pride (and fueled by the fact that he has been somewhat coerced to pay for the gross thing), Jae lurches forward, slams both hands on the box and gravity pulls in his bodyweight to thrust the coffee table forward, sharply thudding against Wonpil's shins. Between the _splat_ of warm grease right underneath Jae's palms and Wonpil's shrill whimper, there is very little room for thought. Jae would use this point as an argument but the noise is _after_ his blunder, and now he won't ever know what exactly is The Brian Thing that Wonpil has been furiously teasing him for. (Once again, most exaggeratedly, _furious_ meaning two very clipped messages just a few hours ago.)

"I'm sorry," is all Jae has to offer Wonpil before his greasy fingers drag the coffee table back to its original position, a safe distance away from Wonpil's shins.

"Really don't like you, hyung," Wonpil whispers, overly saccharine smile on his face as he resumes his interrupted task of opening the pizza box. To his victory: all the pineapple bits have been mushed into the cheese and tomato, leaving Jae no choice but to savor the fruit with every bite.

 

 

 **1.**   **denial**

**2\. anger**

The Brian Thing is worse than what Jae had anticipated, which leads to his present state of playing the most unimpressive chord progression known to man for the past fifteen minutes or so. Sungjin purses his lips tight, smacks them loudly before running exasperated hands down his face. His laptop hums along to the cursed tune like it's the universe's way of indulging in Jae's miniature pity party.

"For the love of god," Sungjin begs, "please at least play something interesting."

But there's _nothing_ more interesting to play, not when Jae's consciousness is flowing in a stream of D major, A, C, G, back to D, and so on, and so forth. In a pathetic attempt of going up against Sungjin, he murmurs, " _Robot Rock_ is like, one chord. You love _Robot Rock_."

"That's not—is this the _Brian thing_?"

" _God!_ " Jae screeches in tune with one final, hard strum of E minor. "Is _everybody_ aware of the fucking _Brian thing_?"

"Well you should first calm down because, it's Brian?" Sungjin frowns at his monitor, ignoring Jae for the most part. "He fusses over vague plans like they're already set in stone, you know that."

And this is why Jae has never really liked talking to Sungjin much when it matters because there's not much respect between them; where Jae has his brows perpetually drooping down in distress, Sungjin's are comfortably protected underneath his stupid bangs thanks to his stupid bowlcut. "Okay, I know that, but I _didn't_ know Dowoon likes Brian and—y'know, with the whole moving thing too?" He chucks his guitar back into its case, zips it up gratingly slow, right next to Sungjin's ear. "I'll lose my mind and it's gonna be thanks to your unhelpful, ignorant, cold ass."

"Wait," Sungjin stammers, "Dowoon? With Brian?"

"It's not _with_ for now, thank fucking god, but it might as well be!" Jae shakes his head, guitar heavy on his shoulder as he paces away from Sungjin. "They're already _cohabitating_? They're roommates but I've been there and my god, they're so _touchy_ —"

"That's all bullshit," Sungjin interjects, "Dowoon is like Brian's little brother or something, you're the only one acting weird with all the touching. I mean, the only person who would bother _liking_ Brian is, well." He gestures to Jae. It feels degrading, in a sense, but Jae doesn't say anything about it because the statement alone gives him eight grade butterflies.

"You're right," Jae says, more to himself than to Sungjin. "You're absolutely right. What time is it now?"

"Three o'clock and why?"

"Told Dowoon to meet me at four." Sungjin makes a face at this, so Jae jogs away from him, but not without an appreciative salute to which Sungjin flips him off in farewell.

 

 

 **4.**   **depression**

The breeze beckons Jae to sit himself down on the café's terrace, sun warm on his pasty face and he's scowling at the opposite couple's Pitbull because its face reminds him of Dowoon who isn't late; Jae is just unnecessarily early and more than miffed, feeling a stomachache coming on because that was quite the americano, what he just had.

It's a classy café, picturesque with the six-dollar drinks he shouldn't spend on and fake vines wound along white wooden pillars. Jae entertains the thought of Brian posing in one of the corners for some coffee ad. He fits the image, what with his wardrobe of three trench coats and six cardigans to cover the fact that he attends classes in pajamas seventy-eight percent of the time. Oh yes, Jae knows. To be frank and creepy, what doesn't he know about Brian? Right, that Dowoon likes him and they might be a thing and he's going to move to where? New York? That is, last he checked, four hours by plane, and maybe fifty-hours by car from his sweet, sweet California.

New York why? Modelling. Some bigwig company (Wonpil said) scouted Brian with a huge lump of money dangled before him (Wonpil said), and while he might not be into posing before the cameras, the aforementioned bigwig company has connections (Sungjin said) with this record label which is what Brian is probably aiming for because he's shameless like that. _So shameless!_

"What kinda fucking name is _Tri Angle Records_ anyway?" he groaned to Sungjin's displeasure earlier in the day.

"It released _Clams Casino_ ," Sungjin said. Jae couldn't see it, but he swore that Sungjin was sneering at him while his brows shot up in that insufferable know-it-all way. " _Clams Casino_ , Jae, you can't beat that."

The excuse of _what if it's a scam_ no longer holds any ground in the matter, and even if Jae thinks the whole deal is sketchy, it's worth the shot for Brian. Cash, acknowledgement of his facial value (it's just a little tragic that Brian never cleans up outside the event of his stupid blind dates), and _possible_ acknowledgement of his talents. The worst-case scenario is that Brian wastes a week of settling in New York only to get his ass back in California. If Jae were being optimistic (and delusional) about this, maybe he'd be busy picking out a farewell gift for Brian, stick a note on the back that goes along the lines of, _we've been good friends, please introduce me to somebody, preferably your CEO?_ instead of being stuck in this overpriced café waiting for Brian's roommate and _possible_ boyfriend.

He sees Dowoon's tall figure in the distance, strolling with Wonpil whispering into his ear like they've all the time in the world and it's not five minutes to four right now. Jae is incredibly early, extremely on edge, and his stomach clenches in pain from just how _long_ it's taking Dowoon to reach him when he needs to ask only _one question_.

"You're late," Jae snaps, channeling as much of his stomach's inane discomfort into a glare.

Dowoon shrugs. "You said four."

"Whatever." Jae downs the rest of his americano; dumb move considering how fucked his digestive tract is going to be in the next hour. "Do you or do you not like Brian?"

"Younghyun-hyung? Of course I do." Reason to believe that Brian might like Dowoon back: he calls Brian _Younghyun_ , which is honestly Brian's preferred name. It's just that it's such a _mouthful_ to say that's Dowoon lack of fluency in the English language is what has him earning Brian's affections. Cruelly unfair, Jae thinks.

"Not that kinda like, but would you _date_ him kinda like."

Dowoon takes exactly three seconds to widen his eyes and open his mouth into this goofy smile that Jae is starting to hate. Firstly, it just doesn't seem likeable at all. It's too daft of a face for Brian to fall for. Secondly, if you tell Jae that Dowoon has never had a fly zoom straight into his mouth, he won't believe you. "Oh, _that_ kind."

And he stops there. He doesn't elaborate any further. Jae's intestines growl from sheer frustration. "So do you or do you not!"

"I do," Dowoon answers him plainly, too plainly that Jae seethes. It's beyond unfair that he's never had the complimentary intimacy that comes along with being Brian's roommate, or the guts to admit that he likes Brian in that sense, the slightest chance of Brian liking him back.

"He's moving in like, two weeks, y'know? Aren't you bothered?"

Dowoon has never been taciturn as a person, so Jae can't fathom the chills running down his spine when Dowoon simply responds with an _uhh_ and a, "I'm thinking of confessing soon?"

"We're done here, Dowoonie," Jae sighs. The back of his knees push his chair away with a deafening squeak. "I gotta shit so you... do whatever you want. Stay here, go back, whatever. Thanks, and sorry."

In the toilet reeking of stale piss and artificial lemon, it's less of the ache in his belly and more of the acceptance. Between their bass and guitar fights, bar mishaps, occasional bed-sharing—Jae can't say he won't miss Brian. No, Younghyun. He regrets not calling Brian by that name more.

It took Jae three months to know that Younghyun is Brian's birth name, another three to rile Brian up into saying _if you'd call me_ Younghyun _that'd be great_ , ten to say it without thinking for the first time, thirteen to accidentally bash in Brian's face with his guitar, eighteen to end up a wailing mess in Brian's bed—until now, twenty-five months to realize that he'd like to hog Brian's sheets again but unfortunately, twenty-five months is too long, and Jae has to suck it up to the fact that their being together is pretty impossible at this point.  

By the time he gets back to his seat, Dowoon's already left.

 

 

 **5.**   **acceptance**

There's a destructive aspect in scrolling through one's camera roll, how technology has so kindly stamped the dates at the very top and Jae is here, in his fort that is a busted couch, armed with Dr. Pepper and saltines to fend off dread in the form of Brian and his red hair from mid-2016.

The doorbell rings, followed by rapid knocking in at least a hundred beats per minute. It's eight tiring steps from his couch to the door, so tiring that Jae considers not getting up at all, but he yelled "Coming!" without thinking and the knocking is sure to get his cranky neighbor complaining.

"Hi," Dowoon greets sheepishly, a familiar head hanging off him and Jae wants to touch it upon sight. "I'm gonna owe you one."

Jae can't comprehend when Dowoon shoves Brian's limp body to him, warm arm slung over his neck, a slow heartbeat that goes _bump ba-bump ba-bump_ against his ribs. "But you and Brian—"

"Take care of him," Dowoon says, throwing Jae a grin before he scrams off the corridor all too eagerly.

It's definitely Brian; nobody wears Cotton On bottoms out like he does. Jae stares at the whorl of Brian's hair which he knows by heart, but has never had the nerve to touch. It's so close now that Jae would be able to nuzzle it if he stretches his neck out a little. On most days, Brian smells like Hugo Boss and a hint of fried chicken. This evening's Brian is a humbling mix of rum and fries.

"Bri," Jae calls out softly, hoping that he's not gripping Brian's waist too hard. "C'mon, you gotta walk a bit—can you walk?"

Brian groans, the arm slung over Jae's shoulders tightening into a loose chokehold before Brian lifts his head up, nodding with a dopey smile on his face that's a nerve-wracking inch away from Jae's.

"Your floors are gross," Brian giggles along the way, socked feet shuffling across faux wood. "Just like you."

"Oh, thanks a _bunch_ ," Jae huffs. He tosses Brian onto his bed without considering the physics of this act, which would cause his body to get dragged along onto the same bed, with Brian technically choking him and all. So here they are, side by side on Jae's bed because he actually did consider not tossing Brian the way he did, but that would set him up for responsibility and he'd have to go through the lengths of tucking Brian in, water and Advil on the nightstand, Jae himself sleeping on the busted couch he's spent his entire evening on.

Jae does not want to sleep on his couch. He wants to perish like this, in Brian's drunken chokehold that would technically mean dying in his arms. Wonderful.

"You're welcome," Brian mumbles, his voice muffled by the sheets and a bit of Jae's ear. "Dowoon told me you've something to say."

Between his brain supplying the brand of rum that Brian most likely consumed ( _Cristal_ , which Jae finds to be in poor taste) and the heat of Brian's laugh against his ear, Jae is speechless. The laughter stops, however, followed by cold air hitting his neck once Brian removes his arm from Jae to cover up a yawn.

"If you've nothing to say, 'm gonna sleep," Brian drawls.

The tragedy of wearing glasses is that Jae can't be face-down into anything ever, forcing him to stare straight ahead at Brian even though he's lying on his stomach. Jae has only two weeks and avoidant anxiety the size of Texas which means he has to speak now. "Are you gonna accept that modelling offer?"

"Who told you?" Brian grunts, smile replaced by his signature pout mostly reserved for cameras and Wonpil.

"I just heard," Jae lies. His left arm is still slung across Brian's waist, fingers twitching against fabric and itching for skin.

Brian gets there before Jae does, forcing an arm between Jae and the bed before ducking to rest his forehead against sharp collarbones. "New York's far," he mutters, raising goosebumps with every syllable. There is a perfect moment to die for everyone; this is Jae's.

"You'll do well," Jae whispers, because Brian's close enough and he's not sure he has strength to say anything properly anymore. "You should."

When Brian wrenches his arms away from Jae, bone of his wrist searing where it scratches against Jae's shirt. When Brian grips his shoulders tight and turns them both around, Jae on his back unable to see anything with his glasses were knocked off. When Brian has his fingers spread wide on Jae's chest, has Jae trapped between his thighs—Jae truly wants to perish, disintegrate into bits small enough to seep through his bedsheets, bits so tiny that Brian can't recover them all no matter how much time he's given.

"Fuck you," is what the blur looming over Jae spits out. "Fuck you _so_ very much."

"Bri, wait—"

"You could tell me to stay? You fuck."

Blunt nails scratch his chest. Ground zero. Uncharted territory. Jae can't feel any of his limbs, arms jelly when he tries to push Brian off him. They've fought before, row after row, but Jae can't see Brian's face and it's a little too much to process, the crack in Brian's voice. "Bri—"

" _Why_ won't you tell me to stay?"

"Brian," Jae calls him, urgent with his hands digging into Brian's arms. "You're drunk. C'mon, I'm—I'm not having this. It's one in the morning."

"It's _only_ one in the morning, pussy."

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry." Jae lets go of Brian, lets his hands fall to the sides of his head in mock surrender. "Please? We can talk this out in the morning. I think you're very drunk and in dire need of sleep—"

"I can't believe you can't handle me like this," Brian whines, spine bending and head lowered to rest against Jae's bones again. "I'm so _sad_ you can't handle me like this, what the actual fuck."

"Bri—" Jae catches himself for once, "—Younghyun. Younghyun, please? I have no idea what you're saying right now and you probably don't either."

"I know what I'm saying." Brian's breathing is near scalding, Jae feels, skin heated and face tingly. "What I'm saying is, I'm disappointed in you. Well not in you, in my glorified image of your ass because I thought somehow that you'd stop me from going to New York. I declined the offer?" An exhale. Brian stretches his arms up and out, fingers clumsily seeking Jae's and none of this is real. Jae wholeheartedly believes that this is all an odd fever dream from coffee dehydration, even if the clammy palms on his say otherwise. It's the alcohol speaking, not Brian. "But here you are, in the flesh, telling me to fucking sleep."

"Sleep with me then," Jae blurts out.

Brian immediately rises at that, leaving Jae cold and his hands empty. "Sleep with you?"

"Sorry, I mean. Sleep. _Just_ sleep. With me." He takes a deep breath, as deep as his lungs go with his heart pummeling them into his ribs. Jae's exhale doesn't reach Brian the way his did, which is sad. "I kinda like you that way."

"Oh," is how Brian reacts to this. Softly, before following it up with, "Shit."

"Yes, oh shit," Jae mimics scathingly. "You—is it even fine for you to be on me like this? I thought you and Dowoon are a thing now?"

Brian screeches, this inhuman noise that Jae has only ever heard once when they saw Coldplay last year. It evolves into some rhythmic howl-cackle as he rolls off and away from Jae, quieting down to hysterical sobs thankfully muffled by one of his pillows.

"Who," Brian wheezes, "would even _consider_ that."

"Kim motherfucking _Wonpil_ ," Jae wails into his palms, "and me. God."

"No, not god." The bed creaks, a little dip forming in Jae's left side. He watches Brian clamber towards him on all fours. "God would never." Plastic pokes Jae's temples, glasses sloppily slid back onto his face so he can see Brian grinning like a madman over him. "Go back to what you were saying before, though?"

"Dowoon likes you?" Jae mumbles, befuddled and more than dazzled by how Brian flops down on his belly, knocking the wind out of him.

"Before that."

Brian crawls up, settling back on Jae's chest with his arms folded to cradle his head. It's quite the sight, and Jae feels bad that Brian is getting close-ups of his nostrils plus a double-chin in return. "I like you?"

"Try saying it with a _Younghyun_ at the back," Brian tells him, hair tickling Jae's chin.

"I like you, Younghyun?"

This earns him a slap on the arm, hands on his cheeks, lips on his lips. Hot and itchy and not enough; Jae's fingers are scrabbling at the fabric of Brian's coat, hips bucking up as he inhales through his nose and thank god Brian isn't straddling him anymore. He wants to push further, wants to tilt his head a little and maybe open his mouth wider, but Brian thinks otherwise, pulling away with a barely audible gasp.

"I like you too," Brian laughs, "but yeah, stick to _Brian_. That was just creepy."

"Yeah, okay, but kiss me again?" Jae implores, breathless. "Please?"

"'m not going to New York," Brian declares. "I'm a business student."

"I know you are and I want your business student lips on mine? Please?"

It feels good to see Brian laugh. It feels a lot better knowing he's the cause. It feels downright ecstatic when Brian leans in to whisper against the corner of his mouth, "Okay."

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted them ot be so whiny you wanna punch ur screen


End file.
